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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29876361">sunlight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykais/pseuds/kittykais'>kittykais</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Gen, Magic, Magic Realism, Modern Magic, Urban Magic, Vamp!Chan, Witches, idk i just miss this a lot and i regret deleting it, its very fluffy though, sanas here too, so is Twice, theres a few panic attacks, we all love vamp chan, witch!Jisung</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:33:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29876361</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykais/pseuds/kittykais</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chan was a vampire. A very tired vampire who just wanted to go back to his shop alone and sleep. He did not want to be dragging a teenage witch back with him to the shop. Witches themselves were usually complete horrors for Chan, always trying to sell him garlic or sunscreen. Seriously, he wasn’t allergic to garlic, and the sun wasn’t fatal to him (thank god for good genes), His last encounter with a witch ended up with him buying a pair of ridiculously overpriced roller skates and the witches pushing him down the streets, cackling their merry little heads off as he screamed bloody murder. (Luckily the nice lady who ran the Italian restaurant at the end of the street had stopped him and then hit them with her wooden spoons.)</p><p>STARRING: witch! jisungie, vamp!chan<br/>FEATURING: cute fairies, twice ensemble, wooden spoons, italian restaraunts, and so much more<br/>OR: i wrote this last year, posted it, deleted it for some reason, remembered it all of a sudden, and reuploaded it</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bang Chan &amp; Han Jisung | Han</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sunlight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is re-upload of a fic i wrote last year but never got to finish (who knows, i might finish it this year) and it's very important to me and holds many many many memories that i could write an entire essay about </p><p>there's another chapter already prewritten that'll be up in a few days or so </p><p>have fun &lt;3</p><p>sidenote that the last time i even touched this was on june 25th of last year so my writing is quite outdated and i might edit or rewrite it bc ive grown quite a bit since then :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chan was a vampire. A very tired vampire who just wanted to go back to his shop alone and sleep. He did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to be dragging a teenage witch back with him to the shop. Witches themselves were usually complete horrors for Chan, always trying to sell him garlic or sunscreen. Seriously, he wasn’t allergic to garlic, and the sun wasn’t fatal to him (thank god for good genes), His last encounter with a witch ended up with him buying a pair of ridiculously overpriced roller skates and the witches pushing him down the streets, cackling their merry little heads off as he screamed bloody murder. (Luckily the nice lady who ran the Italian restaurant at the end of the street had stopped him and then hit them with her wooden spoons.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The time before that, Chan had left his shop to go and refill his supply of crystals (one of the most popular items in the store), only to find that the entire shop’s front covered in garlic. Either the witches were doing this on purpose just to annoy him, or they really didn’t realize that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he wasn’t allergic to garlic for heaven’s sake!</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He suspected it was both. Witches, for all of their intelligence and memory, were absolutely atrocious when it came to Chan. Chan had spent the better half of an hour chasing the cursed witches (no pun intended) around, trying to get all the garlic off of his store while his precious customers sat back and watched his turmoil. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had spent the entire month of February one year coaching the witches on how to ask out humans. He never knew that witches were </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad with other beings. No, wait, they were bad with their own kind, how did Chan expect them to be good with creatures that weren’t witches?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So if adult witches were that bad, then Chan couldn’t even begin to fathom how bad a hormonal, moody, teenager witch would be like. Jisung was even born this </span>
  <em>
    <span>century</span>
  </em>
  <span>! He was only 18 years old, which was not something Chan wanted to think about. Thinking in this situation was not a good idea. It would lead to overthinking, which would lead to scaring the poor child away, back to that atrocious street.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Jisung had looked so scared, so lonely, and so tiny (like a baby squirrel), distressed magic radiating from his body, Chan took him in. Or… was in the process of taking him in, as they hadn’t actually reached Levanter yet, or had him registered into the Ministry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not surprisingly, Jisung hadn’t argued when Chan found him and told him to follow, most likely sensing that he was a vampire. He had looked extremely suspicious and scared when he saw Chan, which made him want to take care of Jisung even more. Chan sighed, looking back at Jisung. He was looking down at his feet, playing with his worn sleeves. They were gray. Chan didn’t like the look of gray on him. It was… too dull, and matched the smudges on Jisung’s face and hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan was a vampire. He wasn’t very magical, he was just dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he still had magic flowing through his veins, being the only thing that kept him alive (as well as the blood he needed to drink daily), That small bit of magic allowed him to, for lack of better word, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense</span>
  </em>
  <span> other magic. It was the same way witches and nature spirits and shifters and other supernaturals were able to sense other supernaturals, the same way he knew Jisung could sense that he was a vampire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And of course, being able to sense the magic itself mostly meant that you could also sense the type of magic, or the energy the magic of the soul let out. Some of the weaker supernaturals (in a magic sense, of course), could only sense whether you were magic or not. They couldn’t sense what kind of magic or the type, the energy. But Chan was a vampire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung had this...this </span>
  <em>
    <span>glow</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him. He wouldn’t be able to explain it to humans. It wasn’t something that could be explained, energy. You had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> it to believe it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe that was the only reason Jisung even considered Chan as someone who he would be safe with, for the night at least. He was a witch. Witches were one (if not </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span>) most powerful supernaturals there were, when trained properly and in control of the sheer amount of magic inside of them, being able to sense many features about magic. Your intentions, for example. Chan had nothing but the very best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung had been extremely quiet so far, not speaking a single word except for a small “thank you, my name is Jisung” at the beginning, when he was first found. Chan didn’t recognize the boy, this particular street somewhere he didn’t go often. (The main street was blocked by some of the humans. Them and their finicky machinery were always so untrustworthy. They always had signs saying “Road Work Ahead”. Chan hopes the road worked ahead, because if it didn’t, then they were all screwed.) But Jisung was covered in so much dirt and grime that Chan doubted he could recognize him if he had the means too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only vaguely recognizable attributes the boy had about him were his large, round cheeks, which made for a vaguely baby squirrel-esque face. Not very common. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan wondered if he had found his familiar yet. It was probably a squirrel. Chan would be very surprised if it wasn’t. (What if it was a dog? Dog’s were practically the opposite of squirrels, although they did make very powerful familiars. Chan couldn’t imagine a dog being Jisung’s familiar.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were only a few minutes away from the shop. Chan told Jisung as much, and got a shaky nod as a response when he looked back. Jisung was lagging quite a bit behind, doe eyes tired and sleepy as he struggled to walk faster to catch up. Chan knew that he probably shouldn’t think this, considering Jisung was hurt and tired and in need of medical attention but,..Jisung invokes the Parental Instincts within him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan slowed down his steps a bit, so they could walk side by side once again. Jisung didn’t give him much of a response, fists furrowing tightly. Chan resisted the urge to bring the younger into a warm hug and wrap him in blankets until he was just a little burrito of a squirrel, instead choosing to respect the young witch’s boundaries and staying back a few feet. (He had missed giving people hugs, most of the witches in the area were too tsundere to accept them. Sue him, his arms felt so tired and empty, and his pillow could only do so much.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan supposed that Jisung would be closed off for a while. Living on the streets alone, Chan didn’t know how long Jisung had stayed on the streets, but by the looks of him it was quite a long time. But for however long, it wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t good for someone’s mental and physical health, especially someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> young, someone who has so much magic in their blood, and no way to know how to control it. Jisung wasn’t in control of his magic, you could just tell by one look at him. It wasn’t his fault, it was whoever had brought him onto the street’s fault. Chan would bet his entire last life for it to be his parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was also going to find whoever had brought this poor child onto the streets in the first place and drink them dry. Vampire perks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And having to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hide </span>
  </em>
  <span> that magic because of the laws the Ministry had put up, that was even harder. It was like having to hide your tattoos, or your dyed hair except- except it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>part </span>
  </em>
  <span>of you, literally a part of your soul. Chan respected the Ministry, he really did (not by choice), but like every other government out there, they were only in it for themselves. “Doing it for the citizens” his ass. The non-magical laws were only in place so that the humans didn’t give the Ministry too much trouble, and while Chan agreed that having humans knowing now was dangerous, but he could be a bit biased sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It also didn’t help that Jisung was extremely thin, almost too thin to even be fully functioning. When was the last time he ate? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan wondered if he liked fried chicken. If he didn’t… well Chan would either have to restock his fridge completely or force-feed it to him. Neither plan sounded particularly pleasant. Chan prayed that Jisung liked fried chicken. Maybe, maybe he should ask. It was a simple question, right? All he had to do was utter the words “Hey, Jisung do you happen to like fried chicken.” Was it really a weird question? No, it was a normal question someone would ask another question. It was also a perfectly reasonable question, because Chan was taking Jisung home, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh god that sounded wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Chan was taking Jisung to his house to hopefully feed him and take care of him. Did that sound a bit better? Chan hoped it sounded a bit better, it would be absolutely amazing if it sounded better. </span>
</p><p><span>Why was he such a </span><em><span>mess</span></em><span>?</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>By the time Chan’s inner monologue had ended, they had reached Levanter. Chan smiled at this shop, sliding the keys in and unlocking the door for Jisung to walk in through first. He did, and Chan followed, locking the door behind him and flicking on the light. Both boys winced at the sudden brightness in the room, too accustomed to the darkness that lay outside. </span></p><p>
  <span>Chan muttered whispered apologies as he showed Jisung where to put his things, fluttering around like some kind of vampire- fairy mix. That would actually be cool. Chan should put in a petition in the Ministry to let him turn a stray fairy. Or a pixie. Chan liked pixies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levanter wasn’t much really, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> one of the smaller shops on the street. Antique, old, and aesthicc, it was mostly made out of wood, made fireproof by a couple of potions and bottled spells and of course the scented magical candles that lined various parts of the shop, given to Chan by a few of the witches he knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was rickety, the frame barely held together by magic (more scented candles and powerful spells) and quite a lot of wood glue. Chan really, really, really hoped Jisung wouldn’t explode it. Witches were known to be volatile. Hormonal teenage </span>
  <em>
    <span>humans</span>
  </em>
  <span> were ticking time bombs, Chan didn’t even want to think about hormonal teenage </span>
  <em>
    <span>witches</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If he thought about it, he would go mad. He would lose the few brain cells that he had left (the witches down the street had taken all of his other ones and turned them into potions). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The front featured a table with the register, laptop, money box, ect on top of it, with the shelved stocked being the table, spiraling behind it, proudly displaying some of the goods Chan sold. A few medicine bottles, herbs, rocks, some jewelry. It was a tiny little thing, well worn and well loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung looked around the front, scanning the interior of the shop, eyes glazed over with interest. Chan took off his shoes, prompting Jisung to do the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did, following Chan behind the shelves to where the kitchen was. “So I know it’s late, Jisung, but I think patching you up and eating dinner is mandatory right now. Is that okay with you?” Jisung nodded, looking down at  his hands, which were covered in scratches and swollen. Yes, he should probably patch up his hands. And… was that </span>
  <em>
    <span>blood</span>
  </em>
  <span> trickling down his forehead? Jisung frowned. How had he gotten these wounds?</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung shivered in his thin hoodie. It was the beginning of February, and such was the weather.  Freezing. Not good for a lone homeless boy on the streets. He exhaled, watching as his breath materialized in front of him. He swatted at the cloud, watching as it dissipated before his eyes. He was under a bridge right now, near the outskirts of the city. He had gotten a job at the shops near here, a one time thing only, since one of the workers had suddenly called in sick. He would have to hurry and get to the heart of the city quickly if he wanted to get a good spot at the shelter. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked up at the sky. It was rapidly darkening, the sun lower and lower in the sun. Forget about the shelter, he needed to hurry or he wouldn’t even get a roof over his head. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung ran away from the bridge in the direction of the city. He had been running for only five or so minutes before he tripped, thrusting out his hands in order to stop his fall. It didn’t help, his worn palms covered in scratches in a matter of seconds as he hit the cement. His head banged lightly on the concrete, a trickle of blood already forming from the cut. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung groaned, coughing as he stood up. NO one had noticed his fall, thankfully. He limped towards the upcoming group of alleyways, sliding down one slowly, attracting a few looks from the people around him. He glared, flipping them off and they backed away, arms wrapped protectively around their belongings. Jisung snorted to himself. Either they were blind or stupid or fiercly protective, but he was in absolutely no shape to be stealing from anyone. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung pulled out a threadbare blanket, wrapping around himself with a wince, trying to block out the freezing winds. It didn’t work much, the blanket providing little to no coverage against the frigid air. Jisung looked around him, Where was he? He didn’t seem too close to the heart of Seoul, which was probably why the streets were so empty. The only people he could see were the ones around him, homeless and cold, just like him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He closed his eyes, trying to use his magic to warm himself up a tiny bit. Warmth from the inside was the best kind of warmth, right? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The last time he tried to use his magic for anything (it was to catch a fish at a river), he had caused an explosion (He had to hide in a hole in the ground until dark to avoid being caught.) But it was too cold not to try something. And if he exploded...well hopefully hell was a lot more comfortable than people said it was. Jisung pondered the thought. Hell would be warm. There would be lots of fire, right? That was something the old woman at the ramen shop always said. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He closed his eyes, trying to kindle the magic inside of him into a fire, trying to get it moving again after so many months of being dormant. The fish incident was in November, where winter was just beginning to lay its icy fingers on the good city of Seoul. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung could feel the stares of the people around him, but he ignored them in favor of trying to reactivate his magic. He could almost feel it. Almost there, just a little bit and- shit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung’s shoulders slumped. There had been a tiny little spark, a taste of something that he wouldn’t be able to hold on to. His own magic was torturing him, making him long for the warmth. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung’s head snapped up, along with the others around him. Standing in front of them was...a vampire. A short, squarish vampire with bright blonde frizzy curls, hands in pockets and tired eyes. Jisung could sense the faint magic in his blood. He seemed...nice. He wanted to help him? Jisung locked eyes with the vampire, warmth flooding through him. His eyes widened, his grip on the blanket slipping. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The vampire stepped forward, holding up his bag and slinging it around his shoulder. “I can help you if you come with me.” He said, holding a hand out. Jisung’s eyes widened, and he grabbed the vampire’s hand, hissing when his swollen palms came into contact with the stranger’s clammy hands. “Shit, sorry.” The stranger whispered, hauling him up onto his feet. Jisung wobbled for a bit, headrush from standing up too quickly. He let go of the stranger’s hand and rubbed his head, trying to alleviate the pain that was spreading quickly through his skull. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung left his blanket there. He would have no use for it anyways, if this stranger would let him stay. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The vampire looked back at him after they had walked a few steps, smiling brightly, dimples emerging. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hi. I’m Chan.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisung? Jisung are you okay?” Jisung’s eyes refocus, snapping onto Chan’s concerned gaze. He nodded, turning his gaze down to his feet and the wooden planks that made up the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan invited Jisung to sit down on the small kitchen counter, next to the sink while he rummaged for the antiseptics and bandages in the cabinets above the counter. Jisung plopped on top of the counter, cheeks bouncing slightly. He looked around. The small kitchen didn’t have much. Pots and pans hung from the wall, the tiny metal sink mainly empty, save for a plate and a spoon, both wooden- bamboo?. The wooden cabinets were stained a dark red, the grains peeking out of the color that adorned it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a small stove, a toaster, and no dining table. It was… homely. Something Jisung hadn’t known the concept of, even in the orphanage. He had only heard of it on the streets picking up snippets of conversations from strangers in the random jobs he worked, or the other magicals and humans had regaled him with tales of their old lives. His story wasn’t anything near interesting as theirs. They always had some kind of explosion…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisung? Are you spaced out again?” Jisung blinked, nodding his head rapidly. He tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn’t move, stuck in a line, the face he was taught to keep on. Something must have shown, however, because Chan grinned that thousand watt smile at him again, obviously happy that Jisung had smiled. Or tried to. Grimaces, really. Well, it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan approached him with the medicine in his hands. “Hi. Can I touch you? Only for the medicine, of course. You should </span>
  <em>
    <span>probably</span>
  </em>
  <span> be cleaned up.” Jisung nodded, holding out his hands in a silent invitation. Chan smiled again, and began to clean off Jisung’s hand. Jisung winced, the antiseptic stinging, Chan whispering out apologies in response. His hands were so gentle, treating Jisung as if he were precious, or made of glass. In this state, he may as well be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan bandaged up Jisung’s hands, making sure each cut was covered and dealt with. Then he worked on the gash on top of Jisung’s forehead, which was dried, the blood around it hard and crusty. Jisung could see Chan’s eyes unfocus and glaze over for a second, before focusing again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. The blood. Chan was a vampire. Vampires drink blood to survive. Jisung could only hope that Chan wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>hungry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan frowned, squeezing Jisung’s leg softly to get his attention. “Sorry, this is going to hurt, mkay? Brace yourself.” Jisung nodded, and Chan pressed the wet rag against the wound, Jisung hissing as he did, grabbing Chan’s unoccupied hand and whimpering softly. Chan squeezed Jisung’s hand back, muttering out apologies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I keep going?” Chan asked, needing to make sure that he wasn’t hurting the younger. Jisung exhaled shakily, both hands clamped down on Chan’s own. Since when couldn’t he handle a little bit of pain? Since when did he become so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pathetic</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He bemoaned the loss of his expert pain tolerance. All of that, built over at the orphanage and on the streets, all of his hard work...gone, in an instant because of one gash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, allowing Chan to continue. Chan pressed the rag against the cut again, Jisung this time just inhaling, breath steadier than before. Chan eventually managed to finish cleaning the cut, also bandaged it before moving on the less severe scratches that littered Jisung’s arms and legs. He couldn’t get very far with the legs, Jisung unwilling to take his pants off in front of the older. Chan trusted Jisung with the medicine, telling him to patch himself up. The entire ordeal went by silently, the only sound being Jisung’s hisses and Chan’s whispered apologies as the house creaked around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long until they were done, Chan picking up Jisung and placing him delicately on the floor. Chan clapped his hands lightly, an apologetic look on his face. “I need to go grocery shopping this weekend, so I don’t have many options. Are you okay with grilled cheese?” Jisung nodded enthusiastically. He hadn’t had cheese in so long...it was too expensive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan set about retrieving the pans, cheese, and the bread while Jisung watched. He should get to know where everything was, right? Because he was going to stay here for some time, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at Chan, humming under his breath and dancing to whatever song was in his head, Jisung didn’t want to disrupt the peace that had washed over them. It had only been about an hour since he got here. Let’s not jump to any conclusions, okay Jisung?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still he watched. Chan was interesting, to say the least. Jisung had never met a vampire before, he had only seen about three in his lifetime. There weren’t any other magicals in the orphanage, just the plain human children and the plain human adults. He had a faint feeling that that was the reason why he was never adopted. The humans could all tell that </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>was different about him. He scoffed inwardly. It was 3019, for heaven’s sake. Hadn’t the people of this country learned to accept others properly? Did they not </span>
  <em>
    <span>learn</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything from those boring history lessons they were all forced to be put through? They spent 45 minutes every day sitting through a lectures of all the stupid things different countries had done in the world, and these numbskulls were still thicker than Hermione Granger’s books. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was no wonder he wasn’t liked in the orphanage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long until Chan had two grilled cheese sandwiches ready on the counter. Jisung thanked him quietly, settling down to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>heavenly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung couldn’t even comprehend how someone could possibly make food this simple </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> delicious. The bread was just the right amount of chrispy. Just barely toasty and crunchy. The cheese, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh god the cheese</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was goey and rich and so stretchy it was a miracle Jisung survived.  He turned shining eyes towards Chan, trying to portray his feelings without the use of words. When Chan caught his gaze, he blushed deeply, head bowed towards his plate. “Your welcome. Does it really taste that good?” Jisung nodded vigorously, giving him a big thumbs up. Chan laughed at that, patting Jisung on the head, making his hair fluff up a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hair was so fluffy! If it was this floofy now, unwashed, then Chan couldn’t even begin to think about how much </span>
  <em>
    <span>fluffier</span>
  </em>
  <span> it would be after Jisung removed all of the unwanted...substances from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan took his and Jisung’s plates to the sink, washing them quickly and placing them in the drying to dry. Then he led Jisung to the spare bedroom right next to Chan’s own room. Jisung had a bit of trouble with the stairs, so Chan just carried him bridal style all the way to the top. (It wasn’t much, really, it was a tiny little house.)When they were at the door, Chan turned to face the younger. “I’m assuming you want a different bedroom, right?” Jisung nodded nervously, looking down and playing with his fingers. He didn’t want to offend Chan, especially after he had been so kind to take him in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Chan smiled (he seemed to do that a lot). “Well, this one is yours. The bathroom is right across the hall. You should take a shower or a bath tomorrow, first thing. Get all that dirt and grime off of you. Don’t worry about taking too long or anything. There are two more bathrooms in this place, so please take your time, okay? If you need anything, then don’t be afraid to ask for it. This is now your home as well as mine.” Chan paused, looking up at the ceiling to figure out what else he was missing. “Oh, and we’ll need to go to the Ministry to get you properly adopted if you wish to stay.” Chan perked up, clapping his hands and looking a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> too alive at this hour. All just a metaphor, of course. Chan was dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung nodded and stepped into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of this was relatively new to him. Everything was moving fast, too fast for his brain to cope. He sat down on the bed, scanning the room (again). The room was tiny. One twin bed pushed up against the wall, mirrored the closet on one wall, and a small pastel blue desk with more storage space on the other wall. There were so many...walls. Chan hadn’t mentioned anything about clothes. Seeing that Chan had left for his own room, Jisung closed the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stripped, wanting to be out of the worn jeans and shirt. Once he had successfully removed himself from the clutches of his clothes, Jisung looked in the dresser. The first drawer contained pants. There were only a few, all black. The second drawer contained black shirts. The third drawer contained black underwear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Should Jisung be concerned as to why all the clothing was black? Had Chan not discovered colors yet? Or was he just..embracing the dead side to him? He giggled at the thought. An undead creature...embracing it’s dead side. Goodness heavens, he needed to sleep. He was going delirious. (Jisung remembered the last time he went delirious because of hunger. He had asked a pair of twins on a date under the bridge he was so fond of. It hadn’t gone well, and he woke up with a sausage necklace around his head and an eye patch, for some reason.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever the case, Jisung was eternally grateful to Chan, for providing a roof over his head. For how long, he didn’t know, but he had said adopted. Chan was willing to adopt him. Adopt him! As in, keep him forever! And </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> forever, because magicals never aged after a certain point, and and, that meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan was willing to share his house with him, presenting with a roof over his head for now. But if he stayed…? Would it become a home? Maybe. Maybe it would be somewhere safe. Secure. Would he prefer it than being out and about on the streets? A thousand times </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here, with Chan, he wouldn’t have fend for his life (at least he hoped so, who knew what kind of troubles vampires brought?) </span>
  <em>
    <span>(Oh my goodness what if Chan tried to eat him?</span>
  </em>
  <span>) He wouldn’t have to fight for a simple meal (What if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>the meal?). And best of all, he wouldn’t have to suppress his magic anymore. Chan could teach him how to control it, even. He would be able to use it for good. To...help others? Others who were in similar positions as he were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, he would stay here with Chan. He did look a touch lonely. Chan probably needed someone with him. Jisung didn’t know if he could become that someone, but he would try his darned best. Anything to not go back outside in the near future. Jisung walked over to the bed, patting it softly. As tiny as it was, it was silky soft and warm. Comforting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A huge step from the pool of boxes that used to be Jisung “bed”. Even the orphanage didn’t have beds as soft as this one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying not to think about how he was probably dirtying the pure sheets by just </span>
  <em>
    <span>touching</span>
  </em>
  <span> them, he laid down. The bed really was soft. Sleep the same and take him with a smile set on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that was JIsung’s first day at Levanter. Chan was in his room, ears alert for anything that sounded particularly harmful. It took some time- he could hear Jisung padding around the room, imagining that he was touching all the surfaces and wondered alight in his eyes. Chan had locked eyes with Jisung exactly one time and he could practically feel the longingness, loneliness, and pure magic the younger help within him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan knew that he should have asked the younger if he wanted to come, because what if Jisung didn’t want to come with him? What if Jisung thought that Chan wanted to take advantage of him? Jisung was absolutely adorable, everyone could see that. So many people could have taken advantage of him when he was weak, under the ruse of shelter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan shuddered to think about anyone taking advantage of Jisung, especially when the younger was at his weakest, thinking and frail from both malnutrition and magic disuse. Chan would be surprised if Jisung could even activate his magic yet. He wondered many things. He wondered how long Jisung had been out on the streets, why he was out on the streets, and where his parents were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although, knowing the nature of most human parents when faced with a magical, the last two questions were probably connected. Witched were fickle beings. They were troublemakers, yes, but were amazing beings, having </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> much power within themselves. Some were the life and soul of parties (Chan could confirm, he had been to many, many magical parties before. None ended well.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They usually had pure souls, their trouble-making only innocent playfulness, they meant no harm. They usually had trust issues because of this, and were </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> protective of their magic. (Chan would be too, if he had spent centuries getting hunted for the magic inside him). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suspected that Jisung would have issues as well, because absolutely nothing good could have come out of being on the streets, and he was a teenager! An actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>teenager</span>
  </em>
  <span>, with hormones and mood swings, and, oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>goodness</span>
  </em>
  <span>,. God knows how the Ministry hadn’t picked him up yet, he practically radiated distressed magical energy. Still, it was better off this way. Chan could be registered with Chan, he wouldn’t have to be alone, and he could probably stay with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Ministry was harsh, unforgiving and cruel. It’s methods were widely debated among the magical community. It was absolutely no place for a young, reckless witch to go alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan sighed, laying back on his bed. Why did he have one, anyways? It wasn’t like he would be sleeping in it any time soon. Vampires + insomnia was a deadly combination. A sleep deprived, angsty, blood sucker with a strong desire to kill humans and absolutely zero control. Yes, definitely not a good combination. But Chan had managed not to kill too many people during his long lifetime. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another night spent awake wouldn’t hurt at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan opened his laptop, opening a new tab. Tonight he would research. After all, witches were fickle beings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night went by quickly for the both of them, the house creaking and groaning sporadically. Chan kept an ear open for any unusual sounds coming from Jisung’s room, but thankfully, there were none, just the faint sounds of his snores echoing throughout the house. CHan had spent the night properly studying about witches, contacting his witch friends for advice. It wasn’t every day that Chan picked up a stray witch from the good streets of Seoul </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, morning came, the sun’s light shining on the shop, filtering through the windows and blinds. Chan had risen (well, physically stood up, seeing as he got about five minutes of sleep) around 6:00 am. Because the shop opened at 7. He had showered, changed, and was in the middle of making breakfast when a sleepy, bedheaded Jisung came stumbling down the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan grinned at him as Jisung came into view, trying to rub the sleep away from his eyes with bandage covered hands. Chan rushed over, leading him to sit at one of the chairs at the counter before getting the medicine box. He set the box down on the counter silently asking for Jisung’s hands. Jisung complied, looking down at his feet while thrusting his hands towards Chan. Chan unwrapped them carefully, smiling proudly when he saw that the swelling had gone down considerably, and the scratches had been reduced to mere red lines. Witches….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it still hurt?” Chan asked. Jisung shook his head no, pulling his hands away to flex his fingers slowly. Chan shook his head in awe. “Witch magic never ceases to amaze me.” Jisung’s head shot up at that. This was witch magic? He could learn to do this someday? He would be able to heal people with his magic?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan grinned at his expression. “All those salves I used yesterday are witch-made. I usually order them from my friends, but if you decide to stay, you can learn how to make them.” Jisung perked up at that. He would like that, a lot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan patted Jisung’s head after he put all the medicines away in the cabinet. “Do you want breakfast? Or would you like to shwoer first and then dig around yourself while i run the shop?” Jisung nodded, holding up a two with his fingers. Chan nodded, understanding what he meant. “The restroom is across the hall. Use whatever you need, everything in this house is yours, so don’t be afraid to use anything, okay?” Jisung nodded, scurrying up the stairs, Chan smiling gently after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, turning to his forgotten omelette on the stove. Thank goodness he didn’t make waffles today….maybe tomorrow?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tomorrow was Sunday...was Sunday a good day for waffles? Did normal people eat waffles on Sunday? What if Jisung didn’t like pancaked? Just because he was on the street for who knows how long didn’t mean that Jisung would like everything that Chan made. Thank god Chan didn’t make waffles today. Or pancakes. What if Jisung likes pancakes instead of waffles? Chan did Not eat pancakes. It was practically cannibalism!! (Although he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> drink the blood of people to survive so…)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan breathed in deeply, scarfing down his breakfast. It would be okay. One step at a time. Only one step at a time. Maybe he wouldn’t die. Or mess up </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> badly, but that was always wishful thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan washed the plate carefully before placing it back on the rack to dry. Right now, he had to open up the shop. Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Chan, you can do this! People are depending on you to open up the shop! It’s a very easy process, just walk down to where the table is… okay, walking. First step, done! Next, you flip the “CLOSE” sign to “OPEN”, because you’re opening shop! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan blinked at the unsteady light filtering through. It was only 7 am, why the heck was it so hecking sunny? The sun had no right to be that powerful, Chan was a vampire, and even though he wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the rays, he hated them. They caused sunburn! His poor eyes were assaulted because of those wretched rays, goodness knows how non vampires survived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He had seen pictures of people tanning on the beach, half naked, (some completely naked), and within sun burning distance. He never could understand how people could just throw away the health of their skin! He blamed the stupid pixies for the extra powerful rays. Those cursed fairies never understood that the heat of the sun was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> something to mess around with! (They were still nice to look at, however, something that infuriated Chan more than it should).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chan inhaled deeply. Calm yourself, Chan, calm yourself. Try not to murder the pixies again. Jail is not a fun place. What had he been doing? Oh yes, he flipped the sign. Second step, check. Third step, sit down at the chair, open the laptop, do inventory. Make sure some hooligan hadn’t robbed you, Chan! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh yeah, he had forgotten about that. Chan sighed, sitting down at the desk and checking the prices. Nothing seemed out of place, which probably meant that Chan had actually locked up the shop last night, and also put in the magical spells. How wonderfully productive of him. Plopping back down on his hair. Chan rifled through his checklist. The delivery men were late, </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Chan would have to call the office. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Stupid delivery men. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisung scurried up the stairs, heavily anticipating his shower. When was the last time he had taken one? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung coughed, trying to avoid the glares being sent his way. Most people didn’t bother him, either ignoring him completely or taking one look and bolting. There were a select few who actually talked to him, usually cafe or restaurant owners (read: old grandmothers) who took pity on him and fed him scraps, as if he were some sort of stray cat. (Excuse you, he was a squirrel, not a cat). And some glared. Glared as if it was </span>
  </em>
  <span>his</span>
  <em>
    <span> fault for being out here. That he was to blame for being kicked out of the hellish adoption center. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The woman who owned the cafe walked over to him, an apologetic look on her face. Ah, it was time to leave. Jisung smiled wistfully and nodded to her, grabbing his backpack and leaving, but not before bowing low to her. He shivered, the cold air hitting him and whipping his unruly hair around him, shouldering his backpack and facing the wind. His hair was getting too long, he had begun to tie it with a random hair tie he had found on the streets. He would have to hurry to get a good spot in one of the shelters, it was nearing nighttime and it was </span>
  </em>
  <span>cold</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>JIsung had only taken a few tired steps before a woman’s voice was calling out to him. “Excuse me! Mr..Squirrel!” Mr Squirrel? Jisung smiled and shook his head/ That would most likely be him. He turned to fund a young woman around his age, give or take a few years running towards him, waving her arms about wildly. Her leather back was slipping down her slim shoulders, blonde hair whipping about and framing her face prettily. Her white dress was spotless, something Jisung could never, for the life of him achieve. Like, ever.  He applauded her mentally for that. It must have been so hard. Did she go to college for that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung’s own clothes had their fair share of stains on them, although Jisung had managed to scare away the worst of them at the river. (That Mr.Clean nonsense never worked anyways, even at the adoption center. All it took was a bit of elbow grease and magic.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She...she was gorgeous, to say the least. Jisung swore he would wax poetry about her perfect proportions for years. And maybe it was because she was the first human being under the age of 50 to notice him without ill intentions, but she...she really was the more beautiful person he had seen. Back in the center, during school girls had never really noticed him. (They certainly didn’t run after him calling him Mr.Squirrel). Boys hadn’t either, except for one, but that was a different matter entirely. So for this woman to call out to him at his lowest was...astonishing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Also considered he was covered in dirt and grime and probably smelled absolutely disgusting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She stopped in front of him, bent over in half, hair hanging down her face, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She holds up a palm, as if to signal him to wait a moment and let her catch her breath. She heaves out one last breath, straightening up and brushing her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears and patting it down, face flushed a pretty red. Strangely enough, Jisung kind of wants to kiss her. (But was it really that strange?)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She smiled at him kindly, eyes sparkling with interest, and it’s….odd. He hasn’t had eyes filled with interest aimed at him in nearly six months now. Those eyes, the ones turned his way are always filled with hate, disgust...or worse, pity. He could deal with hatred and violence, but something he couldn’t deal with was sympathy. He didn’t need people’s sympathy, he needed food and water and a shower. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Interest...was well, for lack of better word, interesting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hi! I’m Sana! Nice to meet you!” The girl- Sana, it seems, sticks her hand out in front of Jisung. Jisung blinks at the limb for a few seconds, trying to process what exactly was happening in that moment. This, this complete </span>
  </em>
  <span>stranger</span>
  <em>
    <span> wanted to shake his hand? Is she trying to poison him or something? Jisung squints at it. It looks clean and pristine. Jisung shouldn't be touching something as pure as her hand. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In fact, every single part of this girl seemed pure. Long blonde hair, spotless white dress, spotless white heels, spotless leather bag...was this how all normal people of society dressed?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sana rolls her eyes, pristine hand moving to grab his own before he could stop it, shaking his hand firmly. Her grip is strong, something Jisung had not expected from such a dainty girl. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought she was a fairy. Maybe a pixie. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He kind of wanted to know how she would look in the sunlight. Was that weird? Wanting to know how a stranger looked when they were bathed with natural light? It probably was. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “I’m not going to poison you, you know.” No he didn’t know. How was he supposed to know? What did he expect him to think when a random pretty girl called out to him in the middle of nowhere? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She lets go, and Jisung knows, believe me, he </span>
  </em>
  <span>knows</span>
  <em>
    <span> that it’s cliche and cringey, but he misses the warmth and comfort her hand brings him. He hasn’t held someone’s hands in years. He had forgotten what he was missing. He swears it’s because of the freezing cold air around him, but deep down, in a tiny little corner of his conscience, he knows that isn’t the real reason. He doesn’t want to know what is.) </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I need a favor from you.” Sana states, firmly, and Jisung snaps out of his trance to stare at her. What could she possibly want from him?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A favor? From...me?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sana rolls her eyes and nods, motioning her hand around to their surroundings. Jisung follows her gestures, realizing that they’re alone on this side of the street, the passersby around them paying them no mind, she Jisung feels kind of dumb. (But then again, when had he not felt dumb in front of pretty girls? Feeling stupid was practically his middle school career, except he didn’t get paid for it.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisung feels like people should be paying them some mind, because is it really every day that a gorgeous girl is talking to some grubby guy on the streets? His hair used to be blonde, now half of it is blonde because his roots have grown out and most of it is tied back by a neon pink hair tie. It’s not a good look. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Who else would I be referring to? Who else would I even call Mr. Squirrel?” She makes a good point. Jisung shrugs, acknowledging her statement. “I guess so. What’s the favor and what do I get in return?” If he played his cards right (did he even have any cards? What cards were there to play?), then he might be able to get himself a shower and a place to sleep for the night. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sana smirks at him. “Ooh, blunt. Me likey.” Jisung colors, rubbing his red ears frantically, placing a scowl (definitely fake) on his face.  “Please shut up and tell me what you want.” Oh, that came out a bit rude. Hopefully she doesn’t mind. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sana rolls her eyes, but beams up at him anyways. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I need you to be my boyfriend”.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisung smiled at the memory, entering his(?) room and pulling out a set of clothes. No, really, why </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> they all black? Did Chan just go to Walmart one day, or Costco, for that matter and buy like a hundred shirts and pants? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung frowned when he realized that he didn’t know where the towels were. There would be towels in the bathroom...right? What happened if there weren’t any towels in the bathroom? Where did Chan keep the towels? Where did normal people keep their towels? (They were kept outside the bathrooms in the orphanage, and Jisung didn’t see any towel rack outside Chan’s bathroom, so please excuse him if he’s confused.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided to go on without one. If there weren’t any towels in the bathroom, then he could downstairs and...mime to Chan that he needed towels? How would that even </span>
  <em>
    <span>work</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Maybe he could write it down on a piece of paper, or draw it. They could play Pictionary later! (Jisung doesn’t remember much of Pictionary, but he does remember that it includes drawing and he quite likes to draw.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hoped that there were towels in the bathroom. Really, really, really hopes, because if there weren't any, then he had two options. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either he could take a shower without a towel, or he could go downstairs and ask Chan for a towel. Using his words. His weak vocal chords that had not been used much in the last couple of months. Was he even sure if his voice worked? He could whisper, sure, but actually talk?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And...he didn’t want to bother Chan. Yes, Chan said that if he needed something, anything, then he could ask him. But Chan would be much too busy with the shop, he wouldn’t have enough time for Jisung’s silly problems. He was an adult, he could find the towels on his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung tiptoed to the bathroom, opening and closing the door behind him softly. The bathroom was small, a small sink, small toilet, small shower, and small cabinets. It was Jisung sized. Jisung opened the highest cabinet, exhaling in relief when he saw different towels in different colors in it. Oh, so Chan actually knew about colors. Fantastic for him then, he wasn’t brain dead. (Or was he, considering he was a vampire, which meant he was dead, and since his brain was part of him, it was also dead? Jisung would have to ask Chan about vampire stuff.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he stood on his toes to try and pull the towel down, another towel under it fell down as well, falling on top of him. His vision was blocked, there was a heavy material resting on him. The towel in his hands weighed him down, and he couldn’t get the towel on top of him </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He couldn’t get it off, he couldn’t get it off, what was happening, why couldn’t he see anything, why was everything dark again, why was he alone again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why had they left him? Why had he been kicked out, was he really that useless and he just couldn’t breathe or feel anything but the darkness enclosing him from every single angle and he couldn’t fight them off, please make it stop, make it </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was suffocating and tears were beginning to pool in his eyes and everything was flooding and-oh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung hadn’t realized that he was thrashing until the towels that were previously on top of him had fallen off, leaving a sweaty, red-faced Jisung staring at himself in the mirror, towel covering his shoulders and in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung eased his breathing, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling the heartbeat slow down. He was so pathetic, nearly having a full blown panic attack from a bunch of </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> towels. Chan wouldn’t want him here, he was completely useless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shook his head, trying to shake away all of the bad thoughts swirling around in his head. Maybe he had wrackspurts. Luna in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter</span>
  </em>
  <span> would probably diagnose him with wrackspurts. He just wished she were alive so that he could ask her how to get rid of them. Having wrackspurts was not fun. He could never understand why the other characters in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter</span>
  </em>
  <span> would never take her seriously, when she was the most level headed out of all of those fools. Except for Hermione, of course, but she fell in love with someone she shouldn’t have fallen in love with, so she was still stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung shook his head at the audacity of J.K Rowling, putting her characters through the most biased and completely unrealistic school years of their life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stripped, leaving his dirty clothes in the hamper in the corner and turned on the tap, waiting for the water to warm. He shivered, bringing his arms to wrap around himself. Why did he take off his clothes first? Now he would have to wait for the shower to warm. Jisung grumbled and moved his clothes around before checking the water. It had only been about thirty seconds, and the water wouldn’t be warm yet, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was warm. The perfect temperature, actually, around lukewarm. But it had barely been any time, how was the water already this warm? He realized it was a silly question when his own blood was practically vibrating with the force of the magic flowing through it. Jisung smiled and stepped into the warm water, relishing in the th and subtle thrum as it hit his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It really had been a long time since he had showered, or even stepped into clean water. The last time...the least time he had stepped into someone’s house, really, it had changed his life. For better or worse, he couldn’t tell, not when it had barely been a year since he had left her house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung turned the heat a touch higher, looking at all the various soaps and shampoos there were in the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been such a long time since he had felt this...content. Well, such feelings did come with a nice, hot shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung rolled his eyes, pouring shampoo into his hand and rubbing it all over his head. Oh it feels really nice. Why hadn’t he done it before?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He was going soft, thinking cheesy things while in the shower. He frowned. Didn’t the guys in all the romance books do this? Reminiscence about the “good old days” while rubbing soap all over their strangely fit bodies? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung looked down at his own body. It was nowhere near fit, too skinny from malnourishment. All of the grannies at the restaurants always hit him on the head with the wooden spoons (the lady at the nice Italian place was the worst, she had a variety of wooden spoons to choose from, and they all hurt like hell.) and practically forced food into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisung washed all of the soap from his body, watching as it swirled down the drain. He sniffed the bottle of shampoo on the ledge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It smelled like strawberries.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>drop a comment ^^</p></blockquote></div></div>
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